A Tragic Wish Upon a Lonely Star
by Homra-kun
Summary: Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it... ( SaruMi, Contains Sexual and Drug themes, M ). I'd like to dedicate this fanfiction to my dear friend Ally (aka, my Saru). Girl, you're one /heck/ of a roleplayer and my very good friend. Without you, I would've never got into K! I hope we continue to roleplay Sarumi until we die XD. Thank you for everything, Ally!
1. Chapter I - Festering Wounds

(( A.N. : Hello everyone! This is my very first fanfiction posted onto even though I have made many more in the past. This chapter's a bit short and may or may not be tad bit confusing but all will be cleared up in Chapter 2! :3 I would highly appreciate any suggestions or reviews you have for me! Also, I read all the rules but if there's something I did wrong please don't hesitate to tell me ;_; I really don't want to get in trouble! Thanks everyone, enjoy the story~ ))

**Present day**

_This marks our two year anniversary,  
Misaki._

_Does it please you that I'm gone,  
Misaki?  
I worry about you so often,  
Misaki.  
But everything will be ok…  
Won't it be?  
Misaki?_

Lieutenant Awashima would surely kick his ass into next week if she found him here, but Fushimi was hardly worried over such a trivial thing. Those papers can be filed themselves for all he really cared. After all, nothing else pissed him off more than boring offices… Except seeing _his _precious Misaki mingle around with HOMRA as though they were some goddamn family. Anyone with a single pair of eyes can see the illusion they had put up for themselves, for it was quite obvious they were no better than a gang of hoodlums.

December nights were always so cruel and merciless in Shizume city, its frosty zephyrs nipping the bare cheeks of those who remain outside. Signs of snow were so eagerly promised by the dark black and grey clouds from above, but not even a single flake of snow had yet to fall from the limitless sky. They had lied.

Sitting as quiet and still as death, Fushimi stared endlessly into the depths of the untrustworthy clouds as though he were searching frantically for the answer to everything. The atmosphere within Scepter 4 was suffocating, but it was no better outside for the frigid temperatures stung his dry throat terribly. Oh… But what did that matter, anyways? All that was ever on his mind was Misaki. Oh, how he so loved and loathed that boy. That name would forever chain him down with its fetters of hate, dragging him into the depths of isolation from reality like an iron anchor dropped into an ocean. His knees had been pulled into his chest, sitting still so that he wouldn't fall from the clock tower that was centered perfectly on top of the Scepter 4 HQ building. Silence was all he needed, along with his scattered thoughts that resembled the puzzle pieces that Captain Munakata enjoyed solving on his spare time.

Had it really been two years since that fateful day? Closing his metallic blue eyes, a passing wind howled into his ears and forced his hair to dance to its swaying currents before leaving just as quickly as it arrived.

Misaki was but an unhealthy obsession, and addiction that he couldn't stop. No matter when Fushimi fell asleep, all he could see and remember was that heart-wrenching face Misaki made.

Pressing his flaming fingers against his HOMRA insignia, witnessing the twisted look of pain grow on his precious Misaki's face.

Watching Misaki grow such inconsequential friendships with those red-flamed thugs, throw into the corner like an overused toy.

Witnessing that cursed, _fucking_ bottle be caught and melted by Mikoto, catching every bit of Yata's attention like a fishing line catching unsuspecting prey— Thinking about the past sent uncomfortable itching sensations crawling over his charred insignia, causing him to lift his hand, out of pure habit, and viciously scratch at that singed area of skin. The things he did for Misaki, the scars that never correctly healed ever since that day. Scratching… and scratching… and scratching, tearing flesh and

**Two years ago**

"S-Saru… You're not serious, right?! What the fuck do you mean?!"

"Keh… Misaki, weren't you paying attention? I said I joined Scepter 4, simple as that~"

"Wh… YOU BASTARD! Why would you betray HOMRA like this?! Why would you betray me like this?! Mikoto-san took us off the streets, blessed us with our aura, and placed a mark of our pride on us!" Yata growled, his fist bumping into Fushimi's chest right where his HOMRA insignia rested, half hidden, "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US?!"

Oh, how adorable he looked back then. With his chestnut-colored hair untamed and wild like his spirit, hazel eyes glinting red with fury, and his rounded face lined angrily with coral-colored lips drawn back like a threatened animal. Resting in the silence for a few more minutes, Fushimi let out a demented and twisted laugh that rang eerily through the silence. Fushimi's velvety voice sliced the air like knife through butter, eyes of blue tainted by the shadows that loomed over him. Blinded by what was in front of him, Fushimi lit the fingers on his left hand without another word. And in that instant, Yata quickly pulled back and watched through agonized silence the flesh of Fushimi's chest become burned by the flames of his own little hell.

But that look in his pained eyes, grief. At that exact moment, it seemed as though he'd lost Fushimi forever. But Fushimi refused to see it, to even notice what he had created inside Yata: That burning hatred… Yes, the one that would fuel him forever.

"S-Saru… I swear on my life… I WILL KILL YOU!"

_Silly Misaki... You should know by now that it's impossible to kill someone who's already dead..._

The sudden jump-start of excruciating pain meant that he had broken through the epidermis of his skin. Looking down at his fingers, blood dripped ever so slowly like honey and onto the roof. Chuckling under his breath, Fushimi swiped his tongue over his fingers and tasted the bitter iron of his blood. When would this stop? Was this sorrow not enough? Letting his hand fall back down to his side, Saru slowly looked up and noticed the sky become darker signaling the hidden sun had fallen to begin the night. Not a single ray of moonlight or a flicker of stars could be seen, but he knew they were there. So long as he could feel their presence, _his_ presence, everything would be ok.

But it wasn't enough.

Looking around, making sure no one was able to witness what he was about to do, Fushimi slowly closed his eyes and tilted his head up back towards the sky…

_I wish that Misaki hadn't thrown that bottle at Mikoto and never joined HOMRA, so that we can be together forever…_

Nothing, but that's to be expected right? Wishes granted from stars don't even exist. Ridiculing his brief moment of impracticality, Fushimi leaned his black haired head onto the concrete behind him and slowly closed his eyes once more. Facts are facts, Misaki hated his guts. Nothing he could say or do would ever change that permanent fact. Fushimi had given up all hope on being Misaki's friend, and was certainly way in over his head if he even remotely dreamed of being able to cradle Misaki close to his bare chest, kiss those constantly chapped lips of his, and label him as 'Mine'.

"… My… Mi..Sa..Ki..."

In a sudden, unexpected flash, a bright light had broken through the thick clouds and seeped through like a waterfall of shining hope. Bleeding through the darkness and painting its path in pure white, tinier shards began to push the clouds and overwhelm the sky with its intensity.

"Wh— What's going on?!" Fushimi gasped, scrambling up to his feet with a gasp as it's irresistible luminosity engulfed his whole body and spirited him away as though he were taken away by the hands of god himself.

_Let's start over, Misaki. _

_Wipe away the ashes of yesterday, burn a love much greater than the last. _


	2. Chapter II - Blossoming Beginnings

(( A.N. : A very special shout-out for XxGintamaxX, a user here on : Thank you so much for being the very first person in following my story. I can guarantee you won't regret your decision! ;u; And for you, I shall watch Gintama and read the fan fictions you've written! But thank you to everyone for your positive reviews and for even taking the time to read my story. Please enjoy this chapter! ))

The fall seemed like forever, growing gradually as though it were a bottomless pit. He would've liked to believe he was falling to hell, but it was awfully bright and airy around him. Fluttering his bright blue eyes, Fushimi's senses were finally returning to him after being numbed for a couple minutes by the blinding light. His body looked as though he were floating downward with some current, his coat tail and hair swaying from the unknown force that pushed him along. Fushimi would've certainly lied if he said he wasn't freaked out about this. Was someone behind all this? It couldn't _possibly _have _anything _to do with some stupid wish he made on some dumb star, right? Trying his best to move his arms and kick his legs free, he scowled bitterly and gave up after discovering that nearly every joint in his body was strictly locked down. Even his mouth seemed to be closed shut, giving him no way of making even a squeak. Whatever was happening to him, the attempts to fight against it were useless.

_Just what is happening to me? A-Am I dying? I don't recall being attacked in any sort of way… _

As though his thoughts were the answer to this complex labyrinth of white light, the empty space around him began to gradually grow dark. And for a brief moment, something didn't feel right. Fushimi was certainly no spiritualist, but the only description he could think of to analyze the feeling near him was murky and blurred. As though splotches of black were being violently splashed onto a clean, white canvas of innocence. No longer could he explain it but, as the hands of these shadowy clouds grasped his body, all he could think about and remember was Misaki. Perhaps…

_Could the wish I made be coming true?_

Swallowed whole by the darkness, Fushimi squeezed his eyelids shut and braced himself for just about anything that could come his way…

**The Past**

"FUCK! Goddamit, Saru! No matter what I freakin' do, I can't beat this boss!... Oui, Saru… Saru?!... OOOH, OK. TAKIN' NAPS NOW, ARE WE?!"

A familiar, and rather obnoxious, voice jerked Fushimi to awaken. The second he witnessed the piercing rays of the hot sun above him, he flinched quickly and rubbed his eyes from underneath his glasses. It felt as though he'd received jet-lag, his mind and body trying to desperately catch up to the sudden changes that have occurred. But that voice—

"SARU!" Misaki yelled, rolling the 'R' coarsely, "Weren't you listening?! I said— "

"MiiiSaaaKiii… Could you not yell in my ear?" Fushimi groaned before instantly catching himself. Jumping up from the pole he had been leaning on, his eyes wide as can be the very second his awareness had finally caught up with him. Sitting right by his side, creating a 90 degree angle with from where Fushimi had sat, was Misaki. Misaki Yatagasaru, his living and breathing obsession. The boy he had so deeply fallen in love with, his very name was engraved into the crevices of his soul. But he looked exactly like he had in highschool, his hat-less head with that adorable swoop of his bangs. Those hazel eyes that seemed to give off more life now than it did in Fushimi's present time. He even wore the exact same uniform of Shizume Public High school.

It was as if he had been blasted into past.

Feeling an overwhelming shock roll through every cell of his body, Fushimi held his breath and merely stared down at the closest friend he'd ever had and the first and only love of his life. He couldn't believe what he was looking at, right before his very eyes. Too deep into his surprise to notice Misaki, too, was staring back at him with confused eyes, the short-statured boy raised an auburn brow and kiddingly punched Fushimi's leg.

"Hey, weirdo. You ok?... You're acting really fuckin' strange, and it's givin' me the creeps… AND WHY ARE YOU STARING AT ME?! W-what?! Do I have something on my face?!" Misaki flushed with embarrassment, patting and rubbing at his cheeks and lips to try and remove a substance that wasn't even there. Without another thought, Fushimi lunged downwards and threw his pale arms around Misaki, "N-No. There's nothing on your face… Mi… Sa…Ki…~" He purred, practically shivering with pleasure with how beautifully his name rolled off his tongue and, not to mention, holding the other in his arms again was sprouting a comforting feeling within his very core like no other, "I'm just… d-dazed. But I'm o-ok! Y-Yeah… Misaki, are you my friend?"

Giving off a 'what the actual fuck' face, Misaki furrowed his eyebrows deeply and raised a hand to pat Fushimi's back with uncertainty, "… Um… is this a trick question? I think we are…? And please, don't _EVER _say my name like that again… It's really creepy." He pointed out with a somewhat uneasy face before pulling back, sighing deeply with annoyance upon feeling Fushimi's hands caress his back. He'd never received such an oddly… affectionate touch from Fushimi before, and it was so foreign to the point where he was actually frightened. Of course, there were occasional pats, nudges, and even very brief hugs. But this one felt different to Misaki… Deep and almost _too _meaningful…

"…O-OK. THAT'S ENOUGH, SARU!" He stammered loudly, shoving the other back just enough to have the other keep his hands to himself. Fushimi, giving Misaki a look of adoration, took a few more moments to absorb what exactly was happening. He appeared serene and collected on the outside, but in his mind…

_I-I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. M-MIIISAAAKIII IS ALL MINE AGAIN! H-HAH! H-HAHAHA! IT WORKED! ALL I HAD TO DO WAS WISH FOR IT… I CAN START ALL OVER AGAIN! I CAN HAVE HIM! HE'S MINE FOR THE TAKING! __**MINE MINE MINE**__!_

Drowning in his psychotic thoughts, Fushimi seemed to have forgotten where his state of mine was before having a small book that had been most likely inside Misaki's book bag thrown at him. And thanks to his fast reflexes, Fushimi swiftly blocked it by raising his forearms into an 'X' shape just before it would hit his face. Lowering his arms, Fushimi stared down at Misaki with a puzzled look and sighed to see him pout and pat the ground as a gesture for him to sit down.

"Get your mind outta the fuckin' gutter, Saru. Sit down and help me finish this goddamn boss, won'tchya?" He grunted, his eyes narrowed with slight exasperation. But by looking into his face and, for once, not seeing hatred or disgust, Fushimi finally understood the fact that he had been sent back in time when they were close friends. He was in the past, given a second chance to make every bit of his dreams and desires come true. The question as to how in the world this happened to him abruptly had no significance. What mattered was that his dear Misaki was awaiting, the Misaki he'd come to prize and cherish. Wasting no time in joining Misaki on the ground of the street outside their school grounds, Fushimi relaxed his body against the bus stop pole and felt himself become eased by merely sensing the other's welcoming presence.

But he couldn't fully relax just yet.

Clicking his tongue, secretly laughing to himself as his old habits were beginning to surface, he turned his insipid face to gaze down at Misaki, "… Misaki." Fushimi asked, "What is the date today?"

"December 6… Why? Got an appointment or somethin'?" He questioned, refusing to look up as his attention was submerged deep into the hand-held video game.

"Tch… No. Just wondering…"

_K-Keh! Tomorrow… Yes, that's when Mikoto and the others will walk by and he'd catch that cursed bottle! I have to keep MiiiSaaaKiii away from this place when they walk by! If I fail to do so…_

But having no desire to remember those wretched times of being detested and ignored, Fushimi continued to watch over Misaki like a guardian angel and pitched into the game to beat the boss that Misaki couldn't.

After waiting for about fifteen minutes, the bus began to roll into view and arrived at their stop to give them a short ride to their apartment complex. Memories of their afterschool banters resurfaced, forcing Fushimi to grin to himself as he sat down in the double-seat by Misaki. And all while they sat, Fushimi had rested his brown-sleeved arm over Misaki's shoulders and allowed him to lean onto him for a quick rest. This kind of silence between them wasn't like the one in the near future, a silence that knitted them even closer together. But what got Fushimi the most was the body heat that Misaki gave off. He was a walking, talking, and living flame. No matter the temperature outside or how soaked he became under the rain, Misaki Yatagasaru was always warm. And a mere string from a spider's web was the only thing restraining him from tightly coiling his arms around the other to squeeze the life out of him, so the urge to do so was not far off. Staring intently at the glass beside him, Fushimi ogled into his reflection and had the itching impulse to scoff in amusement. He, too, had become younger by a mere two years from going back in time. But that's to be expected, right?

Well, he wouldn't know. It wasn't every day that he could have the opportunity to time travel.

Subsequently ten minutes later, the bus halted to a stop and Fushimi glanced over at the napping Misaki that so perfectly reposed his head into the very crook of his neck, "Misaki… We're here." He murmured, gently nudging the other and curiously watching him awaken from his light slumber. And oh god was he adorable in doing so. Rubbing the sun-kissed skin on his face, Misaki yawned quietly and smacked his peachy lips together before rising from the leather seat, "Yeah yeah, I'm up…" He groaned, lengthening his spine and puffing his chest out. Could Misaki be any more beautiful? His body was small but each curve was so definite and highlighted, one could not simply ignore it. The way his hips swayed, whole body swaggered, and his round, perky ass—

"Saru, hand me my bag will ya?"

Snapping himself out of his inner-most perverted thoughts, Fushimi clicked his tongue and slung it over his shoulders before following right behind Misaki with a strong eagerness. It had come to his attention how much he wanted Misaki, to stroke every inch of him, cater to his every whim, and to be the one to make him happy. But he had to get HOMRA out of the coming picture, he couldn't jump into this without a thorough calculation. Reaching ghetto area where Misaki lived, Fushimi watched the shorter male grab his bag and deviously smile, "Thanks Saru… Well, I'll see ya tomorrow. Same time, same place." He briefly spoke, turning to walk away before being intercepted by Fushimi's sudden hug. Biting his bottom lip, Misaki slowly peeked up at the taller male and frowned as he noticed something in those icy blue eyes of his.

"Goodnight, Misaki. I'll be waiting for you." He murmured, his words giving Misaki small chills that sprinted up and down his spine. "Yeah… B-Bye, Saru." He responded, swallowing as he pushed the other back by pressing his hands to Fushimi's chest and speedily turning on his heel. Forcing himself to release Misaki when he'd pulled away, Fushimi watched his backside carefully to make sure he reached his home safely. But his feet prickled crazily to run after him, to spy and make sure he could reach his room safely… and, perhaps, the shower safely. But of course, the attraction he felt towards Misaki ran deeper than the mere physical yearning. Misaki was his other half, a complete opposite. One would believe two people with such wide differences could never get along. But those variances were what drove Fushimi mad with infatuation. He had a strange way of showing it, through teasing, creeping, and sometimes fighting, but Fushimi was deeply in love with Misaki and_ only_ Misaki.

_Your scent, carried by the gracious wind_

_Your voice, lingering in my ears like the sound of an angel's harp_

_Your touch, continuing to burn right through my paper skin _

_Your eyes, bright enough to make the sun jealous_

_Can you hear it, Misaki? The beating of my heart belongs to you and you alone._


	3. Chapter III - Altering Paths

(( A.N. : Hello everyone! I would just like to thank all my readers who have been sending me supportive messages! For those who haven't seen my profile before I usually post news and update it on anything going on. Life at home has been a big butt to me along with finals and stuff. Now that school's out, I'm more than happy to be posting this chapter for all my dear readers and fellow writers! Please enjoy and remember to comment if you feel that there are any improvements I can make. Chapter four will most likely be released this week too. ))

"Saru! Ya know, the least ya could've done was knock on my fuckin' door! It's thanks to you that my mom started yellin' at me!" The auburn delinquent shrieked as he walked, his fingers viciously tugging at his own locks in frustration and while cursing to himself under his heavy breath.

Adjusting his tote bag filled with studies over his firm shoulder with a soft yawn, Fushimi's weary, frosty blue eyes rolled a bit slight annoyance before glancing down at his shorter, well-rested companion, "Huh…? Miiisaaakiii, you're a big boy. It's not really my job to wake you up every mor-"

"SHADDUP, will ya?! And stop saying my name like that! If I had a stinkin' yen for every time you creep me out, I'd probably be filthy rich by now!" Misaki interjected sharply with his crude insult, his pink tongue outstretched to Fushimi impishly. And Fushimi simply ignored the childish gesture with a familiar click of his own tongue, because that was exactly how Misaki was: A devious and juvenile imp. That's how he'd always been, and Fushimi adored him exactly like that.

He could recall, deep within the chasms of his own memories, how a school day typically worked out: First, pick Misaki up to walk him safely to school and remember to demonstrate courtesy and politeness to his mother when doing so. Kissing up to adults wasn't part of his routine, but it wouldn't hurt to score some points with the mother, right? Besides that, her overall personality could really grow on a person. Secondly, go to school. Class was nothing for Fushimi, and he hated how none of them matched up with Misaki's classes considering he had been enrolled in the highest accelerated courses the school had to offer and that Misaki was, well, registered in barely proficient classes; a pain in the ass, if you asked Fushimi. Lunch always went well, up until the second Fushimi would open his bento. 'Where's your vegetables?!' or 'Don't be surprised if you die before even turning twenty, mokey!' was what he pretty much endured during lunchtime courtesy of Misaki and his stupid vegetables-are-everything rants. It irritated him to no end when Misaki would wave a stick of vile broccoli in his face to heave into his mouth; but every time he would do so, Fushimi's stomach bubbled and flared with unfamiliar warmth knowing that Misaki did so because he cared… in his own, unique way. And when school ended, their remaining hours entailed of hanging out before Fushimi'd take Misaki home safely. Their idea of a hangout wasn't too special; either they'd chill at the arcade before going home or on the curb near the bus stop if they decided to take the bus instead of walking. But today was December seventh. The same December seventh that took his beloved Misaki away from him, the same December seventh that destroyed their bond into millions upon millions of pieces, and the same December seventh that forever gnarled Fushimi's sour heart that gradually grew demented and warped the longer he spent his days drenched in the continuously growing hatred that Misaki bared for him.

_I refuse to suffer any longer. Only with this unusually given second chance can I mend what's broken. _

Passing by other groups of students, all heading to the same destination, the unlikely pair made sure to keep their distance to anyone who dared to come close. It was as if Fushimi and Misaki made a nonexistent promise long ago: to rely on each other, no one else. All Fushimi needed was Misaki, and all Misaki needed was Fushimi. That was how it always had been, _and that is how it always should be. _

The crisp, chilly morning air wasn't enough to fully awaken Fushimi from his groggy manner, dark circles nestled under his eyes and his typically tidy hair messy and untamed. For all last night, he remained still and soundless in bed and submerged himself in absolute thought. If one would ever think Fushimi would simply accept what was happening without a second thought, then they had another thing coming. Surely a stupid wish on some useless star _really _couldn't be responsible for this sudden shift of time, right? It had to be the doing of someone or something. Perhaps a strain had caught him off guard and used some sort of time travel ability? Tossing and turning for every two minutes, Fushimi thought of the countless possibilities that may have landed him here. But he couldn't get past the wall that blocked any rational explanations. And what puzzled Fushimi the most was what he had been doing before all this happened, in which he couldn't remember. All he could remember was waking up in the past, not prior to it. Oh, but who was he to try and overthink it? He was receiving a second chance to take back what he rightfully deserved, and felt grateful for it. Apprehensive judgments were stored away for the time being; and pleasant dreams, for once in his black-and-white life, of Misaki were so gently poured into his head. But by that time, it was already around five o'clock in the morning.

Arriving at the main gates of the school, Misaki lifted his hand and tugged at Fushimi's sleeve to grab his attention, "Yo, have you even been listenin' to me? What's with you anyways? You've been kinda off since yesterday."

"Hm? Oh, no… I'm alright." He assured Misaki with a nod of his head, "Just sleep deprived, I suppose." Fushimi responded, accurately swiping his fingers over the other's wild auburn bangs for no particular reason. Oh, how he could never get over how Misaki's gorgeously soft hair felt underneath his own pale skin. But to Fushimi's disappointment, Misaki began to pull away with a signature cheeky grin on his tan face, "Right… Seeya later! Mom's gonna kill me if I ditch again!" He called out as he backed away while waving his goodbyes, turning on his heel and swiftly running to his designated class. And all Fushimi did was watch him closely, admiring how fast his short legs could carry that curvy body of his. Oh, how he longed to secure his own arms around that body of his; but simply physically craving Misaki couldn't describe even a tiny sliver of how he really felt or what he truly desired. Fushimi was constantly prepared to either die or kill for Misaki: The only soul who stood out in this bleakly waning world. And should his plan fail to keep Misaki from noticing Mikoto and his gang of hoodlums passing by, Fushimi was, without a doubt, prepared to pick a fight. Even now, he had not yet received any powers to utilize his aura; but regardless, failure this time around will never be an available option.

_12:27… 12:28…12:29…_

And with the sudden bell that ended morning classes, Fushimi carelessly slid off his seat and began to swiftly gather up his belongings and shove them into his tote bag. He saw no reason in attempting to try in class, but perhaps it would be a suitable idea to operate the way he had in the past. After-all, Fushimi was rewriting history; so who knew if what he did in class would even remotely affect anything that happened on the outside? Cautiousness would work, better to be completely safe than utterly sorry. Rudely pushing past other students through the crammed hallways, Fushimi entered the cafeteria and headed straight for Yata who sat in waiting.

"Yo, took you long enough. Here, catch." Yata said quickly before tossing a bottle of milk straight at him. And with Fushimi's sharp reflexes, catching it was not a problem. "Misaki, you know your mother packs you milk to help you grow, right?" Fushimi sighed, settling himself down next to his auburn friend and opening his tote bag. Being in highschool, surrounded by highschoolers, and eating a self-packed bento box again was very nostalgic. Then again, Fushimi was living in that nostalgia this very moment. "HUH?! Says the hypocrite who never eats his damn vegetables!" Yata retorted, tearing open his bento box with a scowl on his face, "Keep it up and you'll die faster than you can say 'Pass the pork, please!'—"

"Say, Misaki." Fushimi interrupted, his blank, frosty blue eyes glued down at his own unopened bento box, "How would you feel if I actually died, honestly?"

"… B-Boy, mom must've slaved over the stove for nearly an hour preparing this. I gotta remember to thank her later." Misaki chuckled nervously, raising his chopsticks and digging in to his food without another word. Of course, why should Misaki be expected to answer such a brutal question? Looking up from his untouched boxed lunch, Fushimi turned his head and watched Misaki consume his food as though he hadn't eaten in years. Scarfing it down like an animal, for goodness sake! Shaking his own head, Fushimi began riffling through his bag till his handkerchief caught his sight. "Misaki, hold still and don't eat so fast. Heaven forbid you choke on your food and die before me." Fushimi chuckled from his own bleak humor under his breath, leaning in once he caught the other's attention and wiping the right corner of his mouth till it was clean of any trace of food. Pouting, Misaki glared at Fushimi for a few minutes after being cleaned and flicked his head away from him. And the next few words Misaki would say seemed to linger in Fushimi's mind like no other words he'd ever heard. Perhaps simply because it brought an unfamiliar feeling of comfort or that purely because Misaki was the one who said it… Yes, a foggy hope that, somehow, this mess would all work itself out in the end. Happily ever after, right?

"_I won't feel anything if you die, because you're not going to die. Alright, Saru? Instead of saying dumb things like that, just eat your food already."_


End file.
